


Murder in Retrospect AKA Five Little Hobbits

by CHazell2



Category: CHRISTIE Agatha - Works, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: 1920s/1930s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Gay marriage is allowed in this universe, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 06:03:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7789465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CHazell2/pseuds/CHazell2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elrond, the most famous detective in the world investigates a murder committed 14 years ago, Frodo needs to know the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Execution

**Author's Note:**

> I have based this story on my favourite novel by Agatha Christie - Five Little Pigs. All copyright belongs to the Estate of Agatha Christie and Peter Jackson. I just wanted to use the characters to play out this story.

The heavy rain battered the high set window and sheets of rain poured down. Inside the dank prison cell, where condemned prisoners spent their last weeks, the warders, whose job it was to keep a close eye on the prisoner, sat in their places on either side of the condemned man. Not a sound was heard except for the stritch-stratch of the nib-pen that the prisoner was using to write his final letters.

_“I once had a gown, it was almost new_

_Oh, the daintiest thing, it was sweet Alice blue_

_With little forget-me-nots placed here and there_

_When I had it on, I walked on the air_

_And it wore, and it wore, and it wore_

_'Til it went, and it wasn't no more.”_

_The child swayed his head gently and dreamily in time to the melody, He loved listening to the gramophone, and he especially loved being in this room, his Uncles’ room. In later years, whenever he remembered his childhood, he will always remember this moment as being one that he was happy, contented and secure in the certain knowledge that he was loved and cared for – all was right in the world. A last moment before the catastrophe had erupted into everybody’s lives, ripping them apart and robbing him of his peace of mind._

The condemned man finished writing his final letter, he laid down the pen, folded the letter thrice, placed it into the assigned envelope, sealed it and picking up the pen again and dipping it into the ink-pot – addressed it to the one that was the most innocent in the whole business and who would soon lose the last remaining member of his family that cared for him unconditionally. The man wrote _**Frodo Baggins**_ in his firm cursive and prayed that the letter would reach him and that his relatives would let him know the truth.

_The child dressed in his Uncle’s clothes, crept down the stairs, holding up the trousers as they were too baggy and large for him. Crossing the drawing room, he passed by the housekeeper, Mrs Gamgee, hearing her soft indulgent affectionate “Oh, Frodo.” Through the French windows, the curtains were billowing in the lazy summer afternoon’s breeze and a 13 year old boy was gesturing him to come. The boy beamed as once he went through those curtains, he saw his Uncle Bilbo and Uncle Thorin sitting close together on the wicker bench as they always did, Uncle Thorin sitting towards Uncle Bilbo with his feet on Uncle Bilbo’s lap. As soon as they saw him, they beamed happily. Uncle Thorin got up and lifted Frodo high into the air and settled him right next to Uncle Bilbo. Kili laughed as he got the camera ready to take a picture. Uncle Thorin knelt against the back of the wicker bench and willingly bent down, guided by Uncle Bilbo’s right hand entwined around his head, for a passionate kiss. Then the three of them turned as one to face the camera, huge smiles upon their faces. Frodo was so happy, he was with the people that loved him most in the world and the day was glorious. Nothing was going to change. Everything will stay the same, a happy summer’s afternoon forever._

The door clanged open, the condemned man, whose hands was clasped in prayer, his forehead resting against his knuckles, started at the sound and turned towards the door. For a moment he thought that a reprieve had arrived. Then the sonorous voice of the prison chaplain reciting the words of the 23rd Psalm, told him the truth. As if they were run by clockwork, the warders stood up, the one on the right hand side of the condemned man grasped his elbow as if to force him up, whilst he was doing this, his left hand was whisking the chair from underneath the condemned man. Then the executioner stepped behind him, holding a leather strap in his hand, the condemned man was in a daze, what was happening, what is happening. The executioner pulled the condemned man’s arms together and bounded them with the leather strap, fastening it. Then the condemned man was led from his cell through a door into the room where the rope was. When the condemned man was in his place on the scaffold, quickly, the executioner’s assistant knelt down to tie the legs together with another leather strap. The condemned man’s last sight of the world was the florid face of the executioner, the infamous Thomas Pierrepoint before a piece of white cloth was pulled over his face then after that the heavy weight of the rope. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of heavy breathing in the room.

_The family face the camera, happy and united. Kili’s hand reaches for the camera shutter. Then the camera opens – the picture is taken._

As the last stroke of nine sounded, the executioner leaps for the lever and pulls it hard. With an almighty clang, the trapdoors open beneath Thorin and he is plunged in darkness, feet foremost through the floor.

It is over.


	2. Frodo Baggins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frodo meets Elrond.
> 
> I have based this story on my favourite novel by Agatha Christie - Five Little Pigs. All copyright belongs to the Estate of Agatha Christie and Peter Jackson. I just wanted to use the characters to play out this story.

_Fourteen Years Later_

The taxi purred its way through the heavy London traffic. Its passenger gazed unseeingly at the crowds of people going around their daily lives, his hands holding a well-read creased envelope. The writing on the front was faded now with the passing of time but the name _**Frodo Baggins**_ was still discernible. The man was dark-haired and could be considered handsome with big blue eyes. He was well-dressed as befitting his status in life. From the outside you could have said that this was a man, who had everything to make his life worth living. That is until they looked deep into his eyes, which did have some spark in them but mostly they were wary eyes, and if they caught a certain light, they were filled with a sort of deep emotional pain.     

The taxi pulled into the Savoy and the man got out, paid the driver and walked with a firm stride into the hotel and headed straight to the Savoy Grill. There, waiting for him was Elrond Peredhel, Elrond was tall, slim and had a considerable reputation as a detective. Elrond considered the young man as he approached with great interest. The letter that he had received, had contained nothing more than a request for an interview, no information could be inferred as to the young man’s personality or age except for the firmness of the handwriting.

 

“Mr Frodo Underhill?”

 

“That’s right, Mr Peredhel. How do you do.” The man spoke with an Antipodean accent, but with a underlay of the upper class English accent. So born and raised in this country and then spent some time in Australia or New Zealand?

 

They shock hands then the head waiter who had been waiting discreetly, showed them to the table. Then after he had taken their orders for drinks, left them to their purpose.

 

“Mr Underhill,” Elrond prompted but the man stated. “For a start, Mr Peredhel. That is not my name.”

 

“Oh, I thought that it was Mr Underhill I was to meet?”

 

“That was the name that I was given as a child. My real name is Baggins, Frodo Baggins.”

 

Elrond frowned, the name was faintly familiar, “Baggins? Now I seem to remember.”

 

“Yes, my uncle was Bilbo Baggins, the painter. And my other uncle was.” Frodo seemed to hesitate, then said, “Thorin” just a second after Elrond supplied it. “Thorin Baggins”.

 

“That’s right”

 

“Yes, yes, a most tragic story. But it was a long time ago, wasn’t it?”

 

“Fourteen years”

 

“Fourteen years?” Elrond was surprised then he remembered where he had seen the name before, “I believe that I saw a picture that your Uncle painted once – in the National Gallery?”

 

Frodo’s face cleared and smiled, “The Girl in Azure!”

 

“The Girl in Azure - that was the one, a most striking composition.”

 

Frodo nodded his head, “Yes, he was a great painter.”

 

Elrond, who had no real taste in art, edged his bets, “His reputation is very considerable.”

 

Frodo’s eyes became two blazing pools of lights, “I am not here to discuss his art, Mr Peredhel. I am here because I would like to ask you to investigate his murder. I was 9 at the time, too young to know anything about it. I had been living with my uncles since I lost my mother and father in the Spanish influenza epidemic in 1918 – I was 2 so I barely remember my parents. However, Uncles Bilbo and Thorin had been named my guardians in their will so they took me in. We lived in Devon in a house called Bag End. My Uncles were very much in love with each other and in so many ways, it was a very happy and idyllic childhood.” His eyes were far away now, gazing into the past, “Then one day, that idyllic life suddenly came to an end. I remember staying with a nice farmer and his wife, they let me feed the pigs. Everybody was very kind and yet they gazed at me with a funny look – a sort of furtive look. I knew that there was something wrong, the way that children sense things but nobody would tell me anything. I asked for my Uncles and was told that they would be coming soon. Then I went on a big ship- it was very thrilling and it lasted for days. Then I arrived in Auckland and Uncle Saradoc and Aunt Esme came to collect me. Then I forgot.” The young man burst forth as to justify himself, “I was very happy, you know. I had lots of friends and Aunty Esme told me that Underhill was my Kiwi name and soon I forgot that I even had another name.”  

 

Then the bright blue eyes suddenly dimmed, “Finally when I was twenty-one, Uncle Sara told me the truth – he had to. For one thing, I came into my own money, and then, you see. There was the letter”

 

“The letter”

 

“The letter that Uncle Thorin wrote to me just before he died. That was the first time I knew. That my Uncle Thorin was hanged for killing Uncle Bilbo. It was rather ghastly.”

 

“What did he write?” Elrond said gently.

 

“Quite simply that he didn’t do it! He’s innocent and I could always be sure of that” Frodo exclaimed. Elrond began to demur, “That is what I want you to prove!” Frodo stated and leaned forwards, “You are thinking that it is a white lie, a kind lie? Uncle Thorin was not like that, not like that at all. Children remember certain things very well, and what I remember of Uncle Thorin and the person that he was - He just wouldn’t tell lies, if something was going to hurt, he always said so. Thorns or the dentist – that kind of thing you know.  I trusted him completely and I still trust him now. If he said that he didn’t kill Uncle Bilbo then he did not – it is as simple as that. Uncle Thorin would not have lied when he knew that he was going to die.”

 

Then Frodo went on, “There is another reason why I want you to take this case, I am engaged to be married.” He blushed and his eyes lit up with happiness, “Sam is the kindest, the most gentle of men. He doesn’t care about this – in his eyes, I am just Frodo – the man that he loves.”

 

Elrond understood, “But his family are concerned?” Frodo sighed, “Yes they are, particularly his father. New Zealand is a very respectable place, people do things in the proper English way and family antecedents are everything – same as here really when you think about it. I catch them sometimes looking at me, as if they are wondering, what would happen if Sam and I quarrelled, what then? _What if?_ As if there is bad blood in me, as if what drove my Uncle is also driving me? I just want to marry Sam Gamgee, that’s all I care about – but I know that I can never marry him if these ghosts aren’t laid to rest.”

 

Elrond gazed at Frodo, whose eyes were now haunted with the questions that he must be asking himself continuously, and then had to lean close to hear the whisper, “The past keeps pulling me back, Mr Peredhel, it won’t leave me alone. Until I know what really happened that day, I can’t think of the future – it wouldn’t be fair on Sam.”

 

“But, why me?” Elrond asked. Frodo said, “I’ve heard about you. The way that you solve cases. The things that you’ve done. The way that you operate. It is psychology – your métier is it not?”   

 

Elrond nodded in acknowledgment, “Yes, I deal with the psychology of human behaviour, the whys and wherefores.” He pointed to his head, “It is this that I use.”

 

Frodo drained his wine glass, “That’s the thing, isn’t it? Psychology doesn’t change with time, the tangible things are gone yes but you can still talk to all the people that were there at the time, go over the facts of the case and then decide what really happened. “

 

Elrond stroked his right hand once, then he looked up at Frodo, “Mr Baggins, I am honoured by your faith in me and my methods. I shall take your case.” Frodo sighed in relief and looked like he was struggling to hold back tears.

 

“But,” Elrond stated, “I cannot, of course, take your word for it that Thorin Baggins was innocent. If after all the facts are reviewed and he is found to be guilty, what then?”

 

“I have to know the absolute truth, Mr Peredhel,” Frodo stated with his eyes fixed defiantly at Elrond, “However it turns out to be!”

 

“And what if the truth is not what you want to hear, Mr Baggins?” Elrond inquired gently

“I have to know!”

Elrond bowed his head in acknowledgment.


	3. Counsel for the Defence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have based this story on my favourite novel by Agatha Christie - Five Little Pigs. All copyright belongs to the Estate of Agatha Christie and Peter Jackson. I just wanted to use the characters to play out this story.
> 
> Elrond consults Sir Gandalf, the counsel for the Defence

“Do I remember the Baggins case?” Sir Gandalf Grey asked, “Certainly I do. Not my greatest success I have to say but I remember it very well. Most attractive man but mentally unbalanced, you know. No self-control at all.”

He gathered his legal briefs together and then glanced at Elrond with the famous look that made witnesses quail, “Why are you asking me about this case, it was fourteen years ago.”

 “I am just interested, Sir Gandalf”

“Whatever for, I didn’t get him off! Of course the Baggins cases was amongst my first cases so I didn’t have the experience that I do now. If I had to defend the case now, it would have been an entire different matter. All the same, I did all I could reasonably have done for him. There was a lot of sympathy for Thorin Baggins at the time, particularly amongst the ladies, due to his dashing good looks I suppose, hah.” 

Sir Gandalf sat back in his chair, an assessing look on his face, “Poison is a tricky business. You can’t argue manslaughter for poison. If he had shot him, or even went for him with a knife - that would have made a difference. But there is no playing around with poison. No barrister with any sense would argue that it was manslaughter. Premeditation, _Mens rea_ you see - the act is not culpable unless the _mind_ is _guilty._  You can’t just poison someone on the spur of the moment.”

Elrond agreed but asked what he wanted to know, “What did the Defence use?”

Sir Gandalf stroked his beard, “The only thing that we could do, Suicide. But it didn’t wash with the jury. Bilbo Baggins simply was not the type. Too full of life, vivid, generous, liked the lusts of the flesh – food, drink, sex etc. You just couldn’t convince a jury that a man like that would just do away with himself – I knew that the case was a damp squib from the start. And Mr Baggins, Thorin Baggins I mean, of course – wouldn’t play along at all. I knew that we had lost when he stepped into the witness box – Prosecution had an absolute field-day – there was no fight in the chap at all.  However if you don’t put your client into the witness box, then the jury will draw their own conclusions. 

Elrond asked, “What did you mean when you said that Thorin Baggins wouldn’t play along?”

Sir Gandalf replied, “My dear Peredhel, we are not magicians, you know. Half the battle is the kind of impression the defendant makes on the jury. You can score as many legal points as you like but it is less than diddly squat if the jury is against you. But Thorin Baggins never even tried to fight. No fight at all. Down-right curious I call it”

“Why wouldn’t he, Sir Gandalf?”

“Dammed if I know, Peredhel. Loved the fellow, I suppose.” Sir Gandalf shrugged his shoulders, “I think that when he realised what he had done, it broke him up – don’t think he ever rallied from the dreadful shock.”

So you think that Thorin Baggins was definitely guilty, Sir Gandalf?” “Damm it all, I rather thought that we were taking that fact for granted!” spluttered Sir Gandalf.

“Did Mr Baggins ever admit his guilt?”

“Not at all, never once. Of course, there is the presumption of innocence before guilt. But between you and me – he did it all right – not much room for doubt there.”

“What was the evidence against him,” Elrond asked.

“Overwhelming, there was the motive for a start. Bilbo Baggins was a great painter, you know. His stuff have appreciated in value most considerably since his death. I personally don’t care for it – too à la mode for my taste but it is good. No question about it. However he and Thorin had led a cat and dog life for years – endless rows – to make matters worse Bilbo was always getting mixed up with some woman or other – could not help it though – simply that kind of chap. Thorin Baggins coped with it pretty admirably on the whole – made excuses for his husband – on account of the artistic temperament. But Thorin Baggins was not the kind of man that suffers in silence – there was endless rows but Bilbo always came back in the end. The affairs always blew over until the next time. However this time it was rather different. It wasn’t a woman this time. It was a young girl – quite young. Just turned twenty you see.”

Sir Gandalf thought for a bit, “The Baggins case got a lot of publicity from the Press, because of the sex interest there. The girl was quite the looker – she was a hard-boiled piece of goods. Lobelia Bracegirdle. Only daughter of some manufacturer up North. She knew what she wanted, and that was Bilbo Baggins – I think also that she was related to him too in some way. She got him to paint her and he ended up falling for her, hook, line and stinker. He was getting on for fifty then and had been married for some time – quite ripe for making a damn fool of himself over some slip of a girl.  She persuaded him to divorce Thorin and marry her instead. Well Thorin was not standing for that – he threatened him. Thorin was overheard by two people, saying that unless Bilbo gave Lobelia up for good, he would kill him – and he damn well meant it too.”

Sir Gandalf stood up and gestured that Elrond should walk with him, “The day before the murder, the whole household had been to tea with their neighbour that lived across the estuary from Bag End, old friend of the family – dabbled in herbs etc. Amongst which was coniine- comes from spotted hemlock I believe.  The next day the neighbour discovered that the bottle was half empty – got into a fearful panic about it. The police found traces of it in a small bottle in the Baggins’ bedroom, hidden in the back of the dressing table drawer.” 

“Anybody could have placed it there.” Elrond said uncomfortably, “It does not necessarily follow that Thorin Baggins was the one.”

“My dear Peredhel, Thorin Baggins downright admitted that he had taken it. Very unwise, very unwise – of course he didn’t have a solicitor to advise him then. When the police asked him about the coniine, Thorin Baggins just came straight out with it.”

“What was the reason that he gave to the police?”

“That he had taken it with the intention of doing himself in. But what he could not explain was why the bottle was empty and why his fingerprints were the only ones on the bottle. That was pretty damaging because if Bilbo had committed suicide, _his fingerprints_ would have been on the bottle as well!”

“How was the poison administered?”

“In a glass of beer. Bilbo was in the habit of painting in the garden so it would have been relatively simple for Thorin to have taken a cold bottle of beer out of the refrigerator, taken it to him. Poured the beer for him and watched Bilbo drink it down. Everybody then came in for lunch except for Bilbo. Then after lunch Thorin together with the tutor, found him dead.  The most damning evidence were the fingerprints.

“Did they find Thorin’s fingerprints on the beer bottle then?”

“No, there was only Bilbo’s fingerprints?”

“I see, were any traces of coniine in the bottle?”

“No, only in the glass, I say, what are you suggesting, Peredhel?”

“May I suggest that if Thorin Baggins was innocent, then it should stand to reason that someone else planted the coniine and if Bilbo Baggins did not then someone else did, would you agree?”

Sir Gandalf seemed almost to burst, he was spluttering so badly, “But, what good can it do bringing that up now. It was years ago – over and done with! Of course Thorin Baggins did it – you could plainly see that. It was beyond all doubt. I even think that the verdict came as a relief to him – he wasn’t frightened. I say this for him – he had outstanding courage – no trace of nerves at all. Just wanted to have the trial over and done with. An extremely brave man really.”

“And yet,” Elrond pointed out, “Before he was hanged, he left a letter to his adopted son, swearing that he was innocent.”

“Well yes, I would have done that myself under those circumstances. Poor child, to have something like that hanging over you – the fact that a member of your family was a cold-blooded murderer. No it was a kind lie.”

“Frodo Baggins swears that his uncle was not the type of person to tell kind lies.”

“What the hell would he know about it?! He was only a child at the time – How old was he, 8 or 9? They changed his name and sent him away pretty damm quick to New Zealand. What could he know or remember! I doubt that he was even in this country when the sentence was carried out. For the best I think.”

“Children are very shrewd sometimes. They sometimes judge a person’s character far better than adults.”

Sir Gandalf considered, “I daresay. However that’s neither here nor there in this case. Naturally the boy wants to believe that his uncle didn’t commit the murder – it doesn’t do any harm – let him persist.”

“Maybe, unfortunately Frodo Baggins wants absolute proof.”

“Proof of what, for Heaven’s sake?! Of his adopted father’s innocence? Well, he won’t get it because there is no proof of innocence.”

Elrond stated, “Mr. Frodo Baggins is a gentleman of considerable character and he just wants to judge for himself the facts and he wants the complete truth.”

“Hmm, then he will find that the truth can sometimes be nasty. Honestly Peredhel, there can be no doubt – Thorin Baggins killed his husband!”

“You will forgive me Sir Gandalf, but I think that I have to satisfy myself on that point?”

Sir Gandalf harrumphed, “Then I will do my best to help – I don’t know what else I can do. Old Denethor appeared for the Crown, he died years ago but his son, Faramir is still alive – he appeared as the junior barrister in the case and of course you can read the newspaper accounts of the trial too.  You could also talk to the people who were there at the time – they probably won’t thank you for raking up old scandals. Those types of people never do. However I dare say that you will get what you want out of them, especially if it is for the son’s sake.”

“Ahh, yes. The people concerned. Do you perhaps remember who they were?”

“Yes, there were five people altogether if memory serves. There was Dwalin Fundinson. Bilbo’s greatest friend – knew him from boyhood. Served in the Royal Hampshires before becoming a stockbroker in the City. Was staying at Bag End at the time. A man of few words but fierce loyalties. Successful man too.”

“I see.”

“Then there was the neighbour, elder brother of Dwalin. Stay-at-home chap. Country squire. Looks far older than he actually is 

Through Elrond’s head ran - _This little hobbit went to market, this little hobbit stayed at home._

He murmured, “He stayed at home, yes.”

 “Sir Gandalf went on, “He was the chap that I told you about – dabbled in potions and the like. Fancied himself an amateur chemist – an absolute crank if you ask me. What’s his name now – something out of Norse mythology I think, Beowulf or something. No! Balin – that’s the fellow! Balin Fundinson. Not sure if he is still on this mortal coil or not.”

 “And who next?”

 “Next?” Sir Gandalf exploded, “The cause of all the fuss and trouble. The young girl herself, Lobelia Bracegirdle.”

 Elrond murmured, “ _This hobbit had roast beef!”_

There was a snort of derision, “She had her beef alright. She’s had three husbands. Always in the gossip columns and the _Tatler_. Each husband notched her firmly up the social scale. Now she is Lady Sackville-Baggins – I wonder how long this poor bugger lasts, ha! Hard-boiled through and through.”

 Elrond noted that Sir Gandalf was not too keen on Lady Sackville-Baggins, “And the other two!”

 Well now, there was the tutor of course. Nice, capable man. Inclined to have everything just so and make a huge fuss if something was out of place.  What was his name, Nori? Or was it Ori? Bless me, it was Dori – something like that. Very good with children but not exactly a bundle of fun.”   

 “ _This little hobbit had none!”_

“And of course, there was Kili, Thorin’s youngest nephew. Must have been about 13 at the time. Made quite a name for himself now – he is an archaeologist – been on digs with Max Mallowan and his wife – you know the lady who writes those little detective stories. Been all over Persia and Mesopotamia, digging up things.  Been packed off to school abroad by the time of the trial – he wasn’t required to give evidence.”

 “So he isn’t the hobbit that cried wee, wee, wee all the way home then?”

 “Kili Durinston unfortunately have had something to cry wee, wee about,” Sir Gandalf said rather wryly, “There was a rather unfortunate incident when he was a toddler. As a result of that…well you shall see – I dare say.”

 Elrond stood up, with one hand, he gathered his things and with the other hand, he shock Sir Gandalf’s hand, “Thank you, Sir Gandalf. You have been most helpful and considerate with your time.”

 “Not at all, pleasure meeting you Peredhel!”

 As they walked out onto the outside steps of the Central Criminal Court, Elrond paused as if he was considered a deep question. “If Mr Baggins did not kill his husband?” “But he did, old boy, he did!”

 Elrond went on as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “Then it would be only natural to assume that any one of the five people present could have committed the murder.”

 Doubtfully, Sir Gandalf said, “It could be possible I suppose. But what motive could they have had? They had no reason to kill Bilbo Baggins. In fact I am sure that they had no part to play. None of them _did it¸_ Peredhel.”

Elrond only smiled a faint smile, “Nevertheless, that’s something I have to satisfy myself on. Good afternoon, Sir Gandalf.”


End file.
